


Highly sensitive spot

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bad Cooking, Domestic, Don’t copy to another site, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 03, Revised Version, Teasing, aesthetic included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: Five times Will distracts Hannibal in the kitchen, and one time he does somewhere else.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 127





	Highly sensitive spot

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Another_lost_one](https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_lost_one) for having beta read this work, which will probably be included in a book I’m planning to publish ❀

I.

“There is,” Will inhaled, eyes closed in consideration, “onion. A whole lot of it.”

“An outstanding deduction,” Hannibal confirmed with a condescending smile.

The kitchen had been pervaded with the strong, unmistakable scent. Will had been drawn to it for a while, before succumbing and leaving his office to join Hannibal.

“My nose is improving,” Will remarked. “I could have said it was garlic.”

“Still room for improvement,” Hannibal quietly retorted, fond and teasing.

His shoulders were turned to Will, his attention focused on his sautée some thing or another, and Will brought his hands to his flanks, ran his palm upwards until he met the concave section of his armpits. An intimate hideout for his wandering fingers.

When a generous amount of clear butter was poured into the frying pan, Will leaned forward for a better look, shielded from the scalding splatters by Hannibal’s large frame.

His hands shifted, his neck outstretched, his chest touching Hannibal’s back.

He could feel, more than _hear_ , the light gasp that escaped from Hannibal’s mouth, open and unguarded, and the briefest torsion of muscles and fabric under his fingertips.

Will frowned. He thought the man might have burned himself.

II.

In retrospect, Will considered the sudden movement might have been deliberate.

The thought occurred to him when Hannibal raised a wooden spoon and offered him a sample of their simmering lunch, an aromatic broth that was hopefully intended for the both of them to enjoy, rather than the infusion Hannibal had prepared for him back in the days.

Will had hugged his chest, tasted the thyme and the marjoram, and heard the low, almost voluptuous sigh before Hannibal twisted in his arms.

He was flushed, but Will doubted the blush had anything to do with the stirring.

“I would advise you to stay away from the stove, if you want to keep that shirt clean,” Hannibal lightly admonished, purposefully avoiding his eyes, “or at least to wear the apron I bought you precisely for that purpose, if you intend to linger.”

“You bought it because you thought it was funny, not because you wanted me to wear it,” Will retorted, absently recalling the totally unnecessary garment bearing the writing _I taste and cook as good as I look_. He wasn’t really thinking about the questionably amusing apron, though. His mind was wandering elsewhere.

In fact, his gaze was drawn by the small nubs perking from Hannibal’s pectoralis.

His shirt-sleeves were rolled up and his top button was undone, Will couldn’t contemplate the possibility that the man was cold, but his nipples were undeniably erect where his hands had been stationed mere few second before.

III.

Theories began unfolding in Will’s mind about the reason behind Hannibal’s minuscule shifts and subsequent gulps of air. It was such a small thing, but it kept bugging him.

Will found himself watching his wide chest at length, not quite intentionally staring, wondering if the answer was indeed as simple as it looked.

It came to his attention that Hannibal, on the other hand, preened under his insistent gaze. He welcomed Will in his kitchen with warmth and entertained him with convivial conversations, but ever more frequently the man required aid in his preparations, although he could certainly handle convoluted tasks by himself, pristine and practical and efficient as he was.

It mostly felt like he endeavoured to keep Will’s hands busy.

“Would you drain the salad in the colander, my dear,” Hannibal asked, after Will had gently approached him to rest his chin on his collarbone, enjoying the curious play of orange flames when Hannibal tipped the pan toward the fire.

Will moved to comply with the request, diligent as ever, entirely aware that Hannibal was wont to prepare their side dish beforehand and dress it right before serving it.

He kissed Hannibal on his way to the kitchen sink, politely feigning his off-handed attempt at distracting Will was successful.

IV.

“Don’t worry,” Hannibal had told him to curb his insecurities about the amount of pain Will was inflicting on his convalescent patient. “When it is too much, you’ll know.”

Hannibal tended to be rather vocal about personal boundaries in his own convoluted, maddening manner.

Despite the absolute lack of respect for those of his close acquaintances, he would exhibit his displeasure through subtle gestures and meaningful expressions, and Will would gather clues like the doting husband and good detective he never ceased to be.

Will was altogether confident that he would notice if Hannibal’s reaction to his touch, casual and light as it had started, was born from discomfort. Hannibal would let him know.

In order to give him more opportunities to speak his mind, Will thought it best to increase the chances of his fingers brushing against his chest, which basically consisted in becoming particularly _clingy_ whenever Hannibal turned his back on him, leaving his nipples unguarded.

It happened with quite a consistency in the kitchen.

It also involved a knife more often than not.

Slicing bread, chopping parsley, carving various cuts of meat in very thin slices. It all required a firm grim and perfect control of his movements. It would perhaps have been dangerous if their position had been reversed, but Will had tried anyway.

If Hannibal hadn’t complained while delicately slitting chicken breast into stripes and squares, Will figured he could tease him at his leisure with no fear of finding the blade turned toward his throat, provided that the situation didn’t change.

V.

It had been an interesting exercise for the both of them, from the mirthful mood Hannibal had taken to display when Will entered the kitchen. However, theses required counterevidence.

Will knew Hannibal was indulgent towards his no-longer-accidental tease, _receptive_ even, but the profiler wondered whether the man had come to anticipate his touch.

It was a relatively uncomplicated hypothesis to ascertain.

Will just entered the kitchen, graciously returned Hannibal’s acknowledging smile, and _waited_.

It took longer than expected before the actual engagement came through.

“Dear, would you mind,” Hannibal summoned him with candour in his voice. “My hands are full at the moment.”

He was holding a steaming pot by its handles near the marble counter.

Will appraised him, deliberately frowning in confusion, as if he hadn’t been carefully following his movements with critical eyes for the past half hour. “How may I help?”

“Fetch me a ceramic bowl, if you please,” he answered. “I shall keep some of the cooking water to enhance the flavour of our _linguine_.”

Will diligently approached and opened the pertinent cupboard, avoided the fanciful dish set imported from Amsterdam for a small, inconspicuous terrine with a floral pattern. Hopefully, Hannibal wasn’t planning on drowning their pasta in salted water.

Will placed it beside his consort without further stalling. “Anything else?”

“Straighten my apron,” Hannibal whispered, “I fear the ribbon is loosening.”

Will did. It took him a long second to break eye contact and divert his gaze to the neat bow on Hannibal’s lower back, but he eventually did as Hannibal had requested, fingers nimbly unraveling and fastening.

He even rearranged the shirt on his shoulders and waist, to make a point.

Hannibal didn’t seem to delight in his silent denial, which was precisely the information Will was looking for.

+I

Will did not refuse to touch him for long, rather sought a safer place to continue with his teasing. He thought the music room would provide for an apt location.

“I think, ah,” Hannibal shuddered, fingers hesitating on the harpsichord keyboard. “Perhaps this would be best left for the bedroom, my dear.”

“Why,” Will asked, abandoning all pretense of caring about anything other than stroking his turgid nipples through his thin shirt. “Am I distracting you?”

Will was keeping his eyes closed to fully appreciate the pointed hardness under his hands, as well as the revealing pauses in the performance. He thrived in the sudden gasps and falters when his dainty fingertips rolled and gently twisted the little nubs, he relished in the sight of Hannibal’s stiff member straining the line of his trousers.

“I find myself somehow compromised,” Hannibal said, not sounding particularly distressed about his predicament. “Something hinders my movements quite adamantly.”

He managed to execute the _pièce_ without missing an unbecoming amount of notes, sighing and halting as he went on, and then proceeded to forcefully relocate them to their plush sofa to further explore the highlights of his sensitive skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Partly inspired by [this cute fanart](https://twitter.com/37res/status/1196104486357352448?s=20), but mostly by the veritable challenge [TheSilverQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSilverQueen/pseuds/TheSilverQueen) threw down.  
> I wasn’t kidding about the book. Let me know if you’re interested, or if you spot errors I should fix.  
> [Find me elsewhere](https://cinnamaldeide.carrd.co/). [Post on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Cinnamaldeide/status/1259467157626335233?s=20).


End file.
